


A Time for Them

by SomeDrunkSheep



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: A bit of humour, A bit of plot but not too much, Anal Sex, Erotica, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Oral Sex, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sex, Smut, Vacation, Vaginal Sex, Wishful Thinking, explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14107686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeDrunkSheep/pseuds/SomeDrunkSheep
Summary: After long insistences, Miles convinced Olivier to take a few days off to go to the North City, where they take a break and do what they know best - get on each other's nerves and all that comes with it.





	A Time for Them

**Author's Note:**

> Morning! Here's a new story, a one-shot containing Olivier/Miles. As it says in the rating, it has really graphic content, so please be aware of that if it’s not your cup of tea. For disclaimers, I don’t own anything besides what I’ve written, and there’s not really much plot here... but oh well.  
> Thank you very much for reading and I’d love to hear what you think of this!  
> That being said, off we go...

A Time for Them

In the obscurity of a rather shady North City pub, Olivier Mira Armstrong was lazily rolling a tumbler inside her hand. She watched as the large round chunk of ice moved circularly over the amber liquid, spinning round and round, without stopping for a single moment. She abruptly put the glass down, but the ice continued to dance in her whiskey until it came to an inevitable halt.

When it did, she lifted the tumbler and placed it across her lips, carefully sniffing its contents. In all the smoke surrounding her, she could barely make out any smells, but she took it upon herself to respect the proper way of drinking such a beverage. She emptied the glass in one large swallow, enjoying the burning sensation that tumbled down her throat, making her feel alive and breathing. The place might have been quite dubious, but the drinks were fair.

In front of her, a small bottle containing the same alcohol she had been consuming sparkled gently in the dim, filtered light. She wondered why she had bothered herself with pouring it into a glass when she could have just drunk it straight from the bottle. With that perfectly reasonable inquiry in her mind, she laid back on the cushioned chair and placed her head on the wall behind her. The booth she had chosen was secluded and silent, hazy from the lazy smoke lifting from the brown cigar on the ashtray. She was all by herself and she revelled in her solitude, unperturbed by anyone too nervous to look her in the eyes.

Slowly, Olivier raised a knee to her chest and rested her heavy boot on a nearby chair. She was dressed in thick riding pants and a black turtleneck, an outfit so unfitting for a woman of such a fine upbringing as her, who should be wearing elegant robes and high heeled shoes. She smirked, looking at the black combat boots adorning her sturdy feet. She was no lady, she had never been. Her mother could complain all she wanted, but her first daughter was more of a man than her only son would ever dream to be.

She took the thick cigar from the ashtray and rolled it between her fingers, admiring its precise lines. She took a deep drag out of it, blowing the heavy fumes with a pleased sigh. After another drag, she rested her elbow on the raised knee, looking straight forward into nothingness.

There were sparse moments when she could unwind such as that, to do what she felt like doing and wallow in her misery for as long she wanted. Times when she could be herself, the person she had become in her hard path through the military. So few understood her, she thought as she took a sip straight from the whiskey bottle, so few saw beneath her tough exterior. She was just as alone and sad as any other officer, she pondered, only she didn't care to show it. The road to the top was lonely and gloom, but she was fine with that.

The alcohol made her feel warm, so much more than inside the frozen halls of her fort. Her home, she mused, the only place she had ever called home was inside the cold skeleton of the Briggs frontier, where she reigned over her kingdom of ice. Her Bears, the hardened soldiers under her command, called her a queen, though they didn't address her with other feminine appellatives. They could have simply called her a king, but they said that the real power of the court was never fully held by a man, but by a woman. Something in that train of thoughts amused her, but she didn't get the chance to think too much of it as she saw a silhouette approaching her.

White hair cut through the haze enveloping her, its brilliance making her blink momentarily to accustom her eyes. She tilted her head silently, but that was the only movement she made – her legs remained sprawled over the chair she sat on, one knee close to her generous bust. The table in front of her did little to hide the careless position of her thighs, one that was usually adopted by men. Her trusted adjuvant didn't look anywhere but into her eyes, used to her perpetual lack of elegance.

Olivier wished she could see his eyes, hidden underneath those heavily tinted glasses.

"Ah, Sir, I thought I might find you here," Miles said mildly, saluting her with the back of his hand. His voice had no inflexion, no judgemental hint over her graceless position. He was straight as a rod in front of her. His hands found their usual position behind his back. He watched his commanding officer take another drag from the dark cigar, her light blue eyes boring holes into his crimson ones. He knew she couldn't see through his goggles, but the intensity of her gaze made him shiver.

After long insistences, the quarter Ishbalan convinced the Major General to take a few days off in the North City where she, as a superior officer, could go anytime she pleased. However, she didn't want to overindulge herself in her rank's privileges. She had always said that those who forgot where they'd come from and what they had to do were those who lost their heads first. Obviously, she had never been one to lack of anything, her family was undoubtedly one of the richest in the country and her own private accounts and vaults held an obscene amount of liquidities and valuable objects, but she didn't earn her reputation by throwing her family's treasure here and there. She had built her persona solely on her abilities and she was respected only because of them. She could very well take permissions like any other officer and not to abuse of them.

What she was doing in that pub was another thing, one that had to do with her assistant.

It all began with the fact that Miles has always enjoyed a good day out of the fort and took any opportunities he could to stretch his limbs outside its walls, even if those times were awfully rare. Because he was her assistant, she insisted to carry him around with her in pretence of cleansing his head a little and she usually left Buccaneer in charge of the fort. He could deal with any calamities that might occur - she had personally trained every single one of her subordinates, from the highest ranking to those who had to clean the mess hall's floors, and they knew how to act united in case of an emergency. They were all of the same mind and spirit, separated into different bodies, all sworn to her and only to her. She didn't have to be with them to know they were following her orders almost blindly. Those who didn't obey that unwritten rule were cast aside and usually perished soon after that, unable to survive the hardship of the mountain or her dazzling rage.

Olivier tilted her head in recognition, not awfully content to see her adjuvant so early. "Ah, Major, finished with your star gazing already?" she asked sarcastically, sounding unimpressed. She lifted an eyebrow in the direction of a chair, signalling him to take a sit.

Miles smiled slightly, unbothered by her frigidity, and accepted the offered seat. He has been her assistant for long enough not to feel insulted by every single thing she told him. "I didn't get to see any stars, Sir. Unfortunately, it's still too early for that. The sky is quite clouded today and I don't think there'll be any stars at all, but I've done my share of sightseeing," he reported. He had walked the North City from one side to the other, stopped at various shops and talked to random people in the parks. He enjoyed socialising with strangers over coffee, all unaware of his occupation and his origins. He kept his glasses over his eyes at any time, but no one questioned him – the North was housing many peculiar men. When he was asked, he always brushed off those few who were curios and told them he was bothered by the bright light.

A woman once told him it was the effect of taking too many drugs – it happened to her all the time. He smiled at her and quickly left that place, wondering how he'd ended up there. It wasn't much better when he had entered a dingy looking bar and realised with stupor that men started making advances on him, though he played along just for the thrill of it. No one ever looked at his bottom like the clients of that establishment - it would have been rude of him not to feel a little flattered by that unveiled attention. He had drunk quite a lot for free that time, he remembered fondly, so it wasn't such a bad memory. He actually enjoyed it there, even though he doubted it would ever be his kind of thing.

For those little happenings, he liked going out of the fort. He couldn't do it too often, his commander was one of the most overworked officers in the army and by extension, so was he, but whenever he had permission, he ventured to new places. Armstrong dragged him wherever she went, especially when she had to travel somewhere far from Briggs, in cases of conventions or summons from higher authorities. He was her right hand, after all, he had to escort her.

In spite of all his love for blending in with the crowd and forgetting he was a soldier in a most unforgiving climate, the Major General was on the other side of the scale altogether. She hated having to leave her fort, even though she had most competent men left in charge. She simply didn't feel comfortable with the thought of leaving, but she did what she had to. Even if the permission they had that weekend meant she was taking her adjuvant out for a walk as if he were a dog.

"I cannot possibly understand what you find so interesting in this city. It's just like any other," she commented and took another sip from the bottle. She handed it to her subordinate, who took it wordlessly.

Miles looked down through the hole at the top of the bottle's neck, seeing the small amount of amber liquid that was left. He wasn't overjoyed that his officer in command preferred drinking her day off instead of doing anything else, maybe something healthier than smoking in a promiscuous bar, but it wasn't his place to comment. He only shrugged and politely took a swallow from the bottle, offering it back to Olivier. "No place is like the other, Sir. Everything is moving even in the coldest places. It's reassuring to see people living and carrying on with their lives, unaware of what I am."

Olivier took another drag of the cigar, the strong fumes invading her mouth. "And what are you, Major?" she asked, blowing the smoke towards him.

Miles couldn't prevent the smirk that was forming at the end of his thin lips, lifting his cheeks slightly. It was a dangerous game, but he had been playing it with her for years. "Same as you are, Sir. An officer in the mountains."

"You think you are like me?"

"Aren't we all the same, in the end? Haven't you drilled that in my head, Sir?" he retorted petulantly, unafraid of any retaliation. They weren't at work, where he wouldn't have dreamt of disrespecting her. In that secluded booth, they were mere friends.

Olivier let out a snort and put down her leg, kicking the chair on her side. "I think you're overstepping some boundaries, Major," she replied harshly, but her eyes told a different story. She looked up right into his eyes and took a final drag from the remains of the thick cigar, then extinguished it in the ashtray with a strange glint in her electric orbs.

Miles shook slightly, but he blamed it on the cold. He had been outside the entire day, he told himself, the chill must have seeped into his bones. If only he wasn't so accustomed to low temperatures, he would have succeeded into lying to himself.

"Let's leave this place," Olivier said lowly, her voice so even it could have been mistaken for a draft. Knowing every single meaning of her tone, Miles nodded and rose to his feet before his commander, respecting the proper way of the military. She left the booth first, having already paid for her consumption, and he followed her closely. That, not until he hastily drowned the last drops from the small whiskey bottle, preparing himself for whatever might happen that evening. One never knew with the Armstrong General. Weather in the mountains could be more predictable than her.

The coldness of the slowly approaching night hit them, but none of them paid it any heed. They were so used to feeling cold, they no longer realised it. They could have easily fooled themselves saying it was a torrid day of summer in Briggs, only they were in the North City and it was early winter. But they were Northmen, a Bear of Briggs and the Ice Queen, not some regular citizens.

Miles clasped his hands behind his back and fell into a steady rhythm behind Olivier. Her long greatcoat glided lazily about her, dark and trimmed with fur like the one that was military issued, only without the stars and stripes on her shoulders. She turned her face to him and clicked her tongue at his position, so official they could as well have marched with the Amestrian flag over their heads and it would have been less suspicious. He chuckled uneasily, embarrassed by his inability to forget about uniforms and formalities.

With a long step, Miles was at her side, his high cheeks a little darker from a slight flush. He looked forward, his eyes hidden under the tinted goggles she had offered him on his birthday so many years before. She was touched to see him wearing them all the time, his secrets guarded by her indirect protectiveness. She had never told him that, but she was sure he knew that very well. He knew her better than she did, there was no need for such words from her for him to understand.

The Ishbalan stuffed his hands in his pockets, the grey overcoat covering him so much softer than what he was used to wear. Wind gushed over his face and he buried his pointy nose inside the warm confines of his scarf, light coloured and fluffy against his skin. Olivier snorted at his side. "You can be such a woman sometimes, Miles," she commented surprisingly cheery.

"And you can be such a man, Olivier," he replied airily, looking down at her, batting his eyelashes over his creamy scarf. She let out a few chortles, so unusual to her ears, and punched his arm for good measure. "One of us has to act like one, you twat."

He hummed approvingly. She could call him whatever she wanted, he had no problem responding when they were alone. "Aye, and you're a dick. We make quite a pair," Miles commented, muffled by the large scarf. She heard him just fine. She scolded at him, her blue eyes seemingly irritated, but she nodded at his statement. "Mhm, I guess we do," she finally agreed, rather quietly, nestling her head between her shoulders. The fur around her neck shielded the shy colour in her cheeks.

They took a left on a crowded street and stopped in front of a street vendor who was selling fish and chips. It was the all rage in the North, given the extensive system of lakes. People in that area had problems finding a way how to conserve and cook the amounts of fishes that were caught, so that combination was unanimously adopted as the unofficial dish of the North. It was fast, cheap and easy to produce, so everyone loved it.

Olivier clicked her tongue at Miles' pleading gaze. She couldn't see it, evidently, but she knew his looks just by how his facial muscles twitched. She guessed it wouldn't do her any wrong to eat, she had been drinking for a few hours, after all.

Happy he had convinced his commander to listen to him and put something else than alcohol in her mouth, he paid the vendor and took two large cones with fried fishes and potatoes. She gave one to the shorted woman and kept one for himself, saluting the street seller as they left his side of the road.

He joyfully ate his portion, looking like a child licking a particularly big candy. Olivier studied his face while she took a bite from a crunchy fish. She chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed slowly. "You are so immature, Miles," she said, concluding her little analysis over his behaviour.

"Why, thank you," he replied sassily and continued to chew with a little smile. He enjoyed the taste, so different from the boxy quality of their daily rations. He fancied himself as a picky eater, however, he had to make do with whatever they had at the mess hall. Armstrong tried her best to detour better food to her fort, but she didn't succeed every time. So, whenever he could, he barged into diners and restaurants and ordered whatever sounded more delicious, but he appreciated street food just as much. Anything that wasn't military issued would do the trick, at the bottom line.

They walked in silence, slowly approaching their usual hotel, the one where they slept at when they had to be present at the North Headquarters. The whole fort insisted she needed the entire day out, maybe the whole weekend, and some braver folks – or awfully stupid - actually offered to pack instead of her just to make sure she took at least one night off. She had been such a bundle of nerves lately, having to work harder than usual, it was little wonder why everyone wanted her to take a break, preferably somewhere she couldn't harm them for the hell of a distraction. Major Miles had been kicked along with her to make sure she didn't do anything dangerous, since she was prone to that. When they've left, Captain Buccaneer patted him on the back mournfully, like he was going to attend to his own funeral. His friend had a dark sense of humour, he had to give him that, but it didn't make him feel better.

Their footsteps screeched in the snow. They changed their course through a winter garden, beautiful ice carvings adorning the base of the leafless trees. The path was covered in white, giving the scenery a romantic touch, one that didn't make either of the two pedestrians any more comfortable. The real beauty of the small park was its intimacy and many benches, where they usually sat after a long meeting in the city. It was a beautiful place during summer, when there wasn't any snow and they could discuss the main points of the encounter with their superiors and curse those useless idiots without any disturbances.

It was a fairly calm evening, but it was too cold to stand for too long on a bench even for them. Olivier steered them toward the end of the public garden and Miles followed her quietly, his hands back into his deep pockets. He watched her with large eye, his vision getting poorer as darkness fell. He wasn't bothered that the colours were turning greyer, his vision was sharp even on the darkest nights. He wasn't hindered by his tinted goggles. He wore them with pride.

She turned to look at him, feeling his gaze on her. He quickly lifted his chin, breaking the short eye contact. "Miles," she murmured softly, urging him to look down at her. Her blue eyes lowered to the ground, carefully adjusting to the whiteness under her feet.

Miles approached her slowly, step by step, closing the distance between them. Olivier clenched her fists inside the pockets of her coat and fixed her stare somewhere in the far away horizon, where the dim street illumination blinked over the buildings.

He was right beside her, his long paces shortening to match hers. He raised his arm and covered her shoulders, slowly lowering it towards her elbow. He lightly caressed her forearm as his gloved hand travelled down to her waist, where it came to a stop. He rested his fingers against her, feeling her warmth even through the many layers separating them.

She distinguished him squeezing her waist, so gentle she could have missed it. She felt his hip brushing over hers, their bodies close as they walked. Far bolder than him, she hooked her arm around him, smacking them together. He chuckled heartily and tightened his hold on her, encouraged by the head coming to rest on his shoulder. They walked like that for a long while, lurking into the shadows where no one could see them.

As they approached the lit streets of the city, their embrace grew slack and finally broke, dissipating into the light. They couldn't exist like one in that brightness - they were the result of the blinding darkness. They were one and the same, but only away from the prying eye, where no one else could see them.

People walked around them, bundled in their warm clothes. They kept a fair distance between them, looking forward, their hands in their pockets. Miles could make out the contour of their hotel, the image hazy in the mist of the late night. They have prolonged their promenade quite a bit, since the sky above their heads was black and the stars were bright already.

He had been wrong – the stars shone even through that cloudy night.

Miles opened the door for his superior and she entered confidently, the coldness of the night rushing alongside her. The receptionist recognised the two officers. "Good evening, Sirs!" she greeted them cheerily - they were regulars, always checking in there when they were in town. They were known by the staff already, no one found it strange to see the dark skinned man trailing after the blonde Amestrian woman. It was so natural to see them together, a commander and her assistant, no one ever batted an eye at them. If anyone did, Olivier's impassable facade would have scared them away, anyway.

Miles took the keys from the counter and thanked. Olivier was already in the lift and he had to hurry, seeing her annoyed eyes flicker at him. Behind him, he heard the receptionist murmuring how nasty it must have been to be her subordinate, having to obey her commands even during a vacation.

The elevator slowly reached their floor, the topmost. There were only two doors there, one of them leading to a rather large suite and the other to a normal sized room. They always occupied that assemble because it allowed them to work, the study in what was supposed to be her suite serving as a temporary office if needed.

"Give me my key," Olivier ordered sternly without looking at him. Miles complied and placed the key to her room in her extended hand. Without a glance, she unlocked the first door on the hall and closed it behind her.

The goggled man sighed and walked to his own room, unlocking it quietly. He shrugged off his coat at the entrance and hanged it neatly on the hamper. He kneeled and unlaced his boots. He kicked them off to the side but immediately regretted that decision, as the shoes flew right across the room. A wet patch formed under them, staining the nicely carpeted floor. He grumbled and paced to them, lifting the soaked boots. "Seriously," he groaned and put them on the grill next to the door, specially designed so that guests could dry whatever their feet were clad in.

He plopped backwards on the bed and set to staring at the ceiling. Lazily, he shifted towards his bag, standing on the nightstand. He rolled on his belly and rummaged through it until he found a book that sounded interesting. He always forgot to unpack them from his travelling bag. He snuggled under the soft blanket and set himself for a silent night.

As he lifted the book closer to his eyes, he realised he should probably wash and change into something more comfortable first and only after that, to read. He set his potential lecture aside and started shedding his clothes, preparing himself for a long, steamy shower – one that was impossible to take in the fort if he didn't want to be used as a darts target by his colleagues for using all of their water.

In her own room, Olivier was brushing her long hair. She made good use of the hot water of the city, valuing its high temperature. She shouldn't complain because Briggs' heating system was really efficient and they had never lacked warmth, but it would have been a significant waste to use such a prohibitive amount of hot water just for one lousy shower. With the quantity she had used, an entire squadron could have bathed for a week and it would still have remained some for the next one.

It felt refreshing to be so clean though, she mused. She sniffed her skin, smelling pleasantly of flowers. Wet hair fell over her face and she quickly started drying it with a towel, fearing she might catch a cold if she didn't take care of it.

She took the book she had stashed inside her bag, its battered covers soft in her palms. She opened it at the left mark and started reading, comfortably nestled between pillows. She felt rather naked, but not because she wasn't wearing any clothes, rather because she didn't have any sorts of weapons around her. She was used to sleep surrounded by guns, it was strange to rest her head without having at least a knife under it.

Miles convinced her to leave her family sword at the fort, like he always insisted when she had some time off. Of course she had packed a small handgun and a hunting knife, but it wasn't the same without her sword. Call her paranoid, but she hadn't survived for so long by carrying candies in her pockets.

Time passed and her hair dried completely. The towel that covered it fell over her shoulders as the action in her book became more intense. She read fast, words blurring as she imagined the narration written on the yellowing pages.

As she turned another page, she heard the door to the suite open. She stiffened for a moment and shifted toward her bag, where her weapons rested idly, but the next sounds she heard were a metallic thump and a man swearing in a foreign language.

Olivier snorted, listening to the grumbling outside her room. The lock to the front door of the suite clanged shut and irregular steps approached her location. The handle lowered and Miles let himself in, wobbling slightly.

"What did you do?" she asked uninterested, tilting her book. She looked at him over the covers and noticed he was dressed in some baggy black pants and an equally black tank top that served as a pyjama, in lack of a better term. His goggles were lifted on top of his head, its white creating a terrible contrast against his dark skin and clothes. He looked like a burglar more than anything, so black in the darkness of the room that she could barely make out his form if it hasn't been for his hair.

"I forgot you put your boots in front of the door," Miles commented, not overly fond of his loud entrance. Of course she put them there, in case someone entered without her knowledge, just like him. He walked more steadily to the bed, his leg aching less as he moved it. It wouldn't have been that bad to simply stumble into her boots, but she had moved the entire drying grill right in front of the door, and that thing was awfully hard.

"You're getting soft, Major," she mocked him and returned to her book. That day, she had insulted him whenever she could in her unjustified yet frantic self-protection. If she were to be frank with herself, she would have wanted to look at him a little more, but she knew she wouldn't be able to save herself from his naked gaze, the crimson red in his eyes alluring her to places she was afraid of.

He smiled at her and put the keys to his room on the nightstand. "Why are you here?" she inquired, sounding irritated, but she moved to the side of the bed to make room for him nevertheless.

As if it explained everything, he lifted the book he was carrying and waved it at her. "I just didn't want to read alone. May I join you?" he asked, unsure whether he should call her by her name or her rank. He opted for neither.

Olivier shifted her eyes to him and that had been her first mistake. His orbs, red like fresh blood dripping over snow, stared right at her, their corners tilted upwards in an honest smile. She quickly averted her gaze and nodded. She felt the mattress dip next to her.

Miles lifted a leg and placed the opened book over his bended knee. He subtly shifted closer to her, enjoying the warmth oozing from her upper body. As he fingered the paper cover, he realised he only saw the printed letters on the page, their meaning slowly eluding him until they made no sense. He couldn't concentrate on the words, something distracting him.

Next to him, his commander inhaled suddenly, breath hitching as the action in her story escalated. The innocent blue in her eyes was getting thinner and thinner as her pupils dilated, the violence capturing her completely. Her chest moved rapidly, her breasts trembling with every shaky exhale. It must have had a good plot, he supposed, if the immovable woman was so enraptured by it.

The officer returned his eyes to his own book, but he couldn't focus on it. He kept on jumping over words, something in his peripheral bothering him relentlessly. A pleasant fragrance insinuated itself in the air around him and he needed to find the source of that wonderful scent, to bury himself in its sweetness. He crawled closer to the middle of the bed, where the smell was more poignant. It came from Olivier, whose pink lips were turning red as she bit down on them, eyes moving fast over the printed sentences. She turned the page and her lower lip escaped from between her teeth. Her mouth opened slightly and she licked her lips in concentration.

Miles frowned and tried to continue reading, at the very least pretend to do it. He wondered why he had chosen such a subject - he had never considered himself one to want to know how the king's advisor kidnapped the princess because she didn't want to marry him.

He had always enjoyed fairy tales, especially those from the Ishbalan folklore, but with age, certain stories made his imagination wander unpleasantly far. Now that he thought of it, that was quite a sick plot, one that might have sounded interesting to a child. To him, whose mind was on anything aside of knights salvaging damsels in distress, it held too much of a mature connotation. That must have been one of the many disadvantages of growing up, he supposed, seeing all the horrors he had that tarnished what remained of his innocence.

He didn't remember why he kept on carrying that particular volume with him, he always forgot to take it out from his travelling bag. He had accidentally brought that with him to his commander's room, instead of the adventure novel he had left on the bed before showering. 'Damn, I should have read what was written on the cover,' he complained to himself.

Miles inhaled deeply and his nostrils were invaded again by that mind-numbing fragrance. He exhaled fast, hoping to get rid of the strangely alluring sensation in his chest, one that determined him to question his decisions. He involuntarily rotated his head, moving his nose closer to Olivier's neck, surrounded by golden cascades of hair. He sniffed it ardently, his breath tingling her skin.

"Stop that," she ordered dangerously and elbowed him in the stomach. Miles swallowed hard, trying to calm the sudden ache in his abdomen. As he palpated the sore spot, he continued to bask in her perfume. That was why he should stop reading children stories - copying the fictional character's behaviours didn't work well with reality.

Olivier turned abruptly at him, her eyes narrowed. "Cut it out!" she snapped angrily and rubbed her neck where his breath has left a tickling sensation. "What the hell are you, a mutt? Stop smelling me, damn it!"

"Excuse me," he whispered thickly. He regarded her apologetically and he lowered his gaze when her expression softened, but she soon pressed a cold finger to his chin, tilting it upwards. Their eyes met, pupils blown wide in the dim lamp light.

They couldn't blink in the intensity of their shared gazes. The woman raised a careful hand and it was caught by him, who slowly approached it to his lips in a worshiping gesture. He pressed softly on her cold knuckles, kissing each of them without shying to look away. The clenched palm opened swiftly, covering his mouth and his nose, putting pressure over them. Her fingers soon moved to his cheek and trailed a sure line along his jaw. She lowered them to his neck, pointy nails scratching the sensitive flesh they discovered.

His red eyes grew dark, no longer ashamed of his indiscretion. There was a great fire burning in them as he moved forward, closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a chaste kiss. Their eyes closed for a moment and then opened brusquely.

Miles cupped Olivier's cheeks, her book falling carelessly to the floor as she welcomed him in her arms. Their mouths became one, gentle pecks turning raw with fervent ardour. Their kiss deepened as he shifted completely over her, covering her with his larger body. Teeth clashed as their mouths devoured each other, tongues fighting a devastating battle neither could win nor resist, faced with its wrecking power.

Their passionate embrace ended when Olivier pulled him back by the hair. With the other hand, she took off the goggles nested on top of his head and put them aside on the nightstand, mindful not to break them. The fingers in his white hair loosened and he leaned forward, kissing her firmly, again and again, until they ran out of air and from there, some more.

His hands grabbed at her long hair, revelling in its smoothness, twisting and turning it in his palms. He left her mouth with a stark peck at its tilted corner and lowered himself to kiss her chin and neck, inhaling her scent hungrily. She buried her fingers in his locks, pulling some out of their back tie. His teeth grazed her pulsing veins, making her breathe sharply. "No marks there," she averted breathily, watching him in the eyes. He nonverbally agreed with the tilt of his head, knowing their rules all too well to ever disobey them. "Get up," she instructed before he managed to get lower.

Miles complied with her request and lifted enough for her to get rid of his top. Just as she admired his naked torso, he caught the hem of her shirt and helped her out of it. His hands travelled underneath her back and opened the clasp of her bra, her breasts spilling out as soon as they lost their wired confines.

She shrugged out of her upper clothing and opened her tights discretely, allowing their bodies to get a bit closer. The Ishbalan returned to his ministrations, leaving a wet, heated trail across her skin, lower and lower until it reached her chest. His left hand cupped one of the breasts, the other caressing the underside of her chin as he bit down on an exposed nipple. Olivier took his index finger into her mouth and sucked it viciously, the sharp sensation blossoming from her chest making her delirious with want.

Miles licked her skin with newfound passion, kneading and cupping those soft breasts roughly. He grazed a nipple with his teeth and departed his lips, devouring it, biting and rolling it with his tongue. Olivier shivered under him, strangled moans escaping around the fingers in her mouth.

The hand in Miles' hair tightened, signalling him to shift his attention to the other mound. Instead of immediately follow her guidance, he bit on the underside of her generous chest, earning another shuddering hiss from her. He soon turned to the other side of her torso, caressing the heavy bosom with practised precision.

Olivier's head reeled when she felt those long fingers deepening their reign inside her mouth. She bit them harshly and her free hand shot down to his bare shoulder, nails planting themselves in the taciturn skin. She heard him groan at the pain she delivered and the lips on her chest moved even more confidently, awakening her entire body with each stroke of that wet muscle within.

The man looked up into the Major General's eyes and she would have fainted if she were less herself. His normally crimson eyes were so dark and deadly, eating her from the inside, making her so small in front of their bottomless grandeur. He abruptly left her breasts and kissed her squarely, raw and uninhibited, his wet fingers drawing circles over her collar.

She bit his lips, making him look into her eyes again. Olivier loved those deep orbs that sparkled whenever they found her. They were the most beautiful gems she had ever seen and they were hers, only hers to admire. The cerulean shade of her eyes was clouded by lust, so beautifully unguarded for him to stare into their perfect serenity.

He kissed her again, a sure hand going down on her trembling body. When he was met by the hem of her pants, he simply got under it, ignoring the meaning of the barrier that covered her. Olivier departed her legs farther, as much as her pants allowed her without tearing them, and welcomed him comfortably between them. His mouth worked over hers and his fingers continued their quest lower and lower, until they have reached the quested heated flesh underneath all those fabric layers. She assaulted his skin, feeling desire twist inside her.

"Argh," the female commander hissed, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. Her assistant conquered her mouth as his fingers opened her lower lips, delighting in the terrible wetness gushing over them. He rolled her clit between his thumb and index, the rest of his fingers gliding toward the weeping hole bellow. His palm trailed lower and pressed against the bundle of nerves, two fingers testing her depth already. He encircled the muscles and plunged in unexpectedly, making Olivier moan loudly. She grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look into her eyes, misty from the wonderful friction between her legs.

Miles smiled gently at her as he thrust his fingers inside her, slowly yet purposefully. "My beautiful queen," he muttered tenderly, his voice so innocent in comparison to his movements. She tightened her hold in his hair. "Yes," she groaned and clenched around the digits burning her walls, set on driving her insane.

The gentleness in his smile turned feral as he extracted his fingers from her heat, taking them out from her pants. Her previously adoring gaze became murderous. "I swear-"

"Don't kill me yet," Miles interjected, trying to look offended by her disbelief, but failing monumentally. She pressed her lips in a thin line and frowned, challenging him to do something to get back in her good graces. He snorted and shook his head. "Really, Olivier, you're the worst," he teased, amused as he tapped against the corner of her mouth with one of the fingers that had been inside her just a moment before.

She wanted to get back at him with something rude, but the words died in her throat as he licked his glistening fingers, looking pointedly into her bleary eyes. Her insides churned almost painfully, making her gasp under his heavy scrutiny. Miles grinned toothily, sharp like a crocodile.

Without further introductions, Olivier's vision was presented with a wild mane of white hair. She fumbled with it, sending it aside scornfully, but the annoying ponytail disappeared just like it came. She quickly looked down and let out a sudden yelp as she felt her thighs make contact with the cold air of the room.

Her pants were yanked down gracelessly, her nakedness uncovered without any celebrations. Miles didn't even bother to cast a glance at her body, knowing it better than he knew himself. He didn't need to look to see her voluptuous curves, carved in the back of his mind, with the many crevices and dips in her pale skin, those scars and burns marring her wonderfully with their gruesome twists and turns. He knew them all and worshiped them as the testimonies of the powerful woman he loved more than anything, more than the world and his life.

Unthinkingly, Olivier opened her mouth again to say something, probably to scold him, but nothing got past her reddened lips at the sight of his loving attention. Miles chuckled at her and she narrowed her eyes threateningly. His brows furrowed comically. "You've got the patience of a mule," he said breezily as he rested his chin on her soft belly.

She clicked her tongue across her teeth, growing irritated. "Tch, who do you c-ARGH!" she gasped audibly as her hips were grabbed and distanced alarmingly far. Miles lowered his head to her mound, leaking desperately as he pressed his lips against the engorged clit. He bit it lightly and licked around it, making the woman curse harshly between heavy pants. Firm hands planted themselves in his hair, encouraging him to do whatever he pleased. He tasted her languidly, his pointy tongue travelling in random patterns across her wet heat. He stopped to nibble her pulsing inner lips, trembling when his hot breath bothered their stillness. The tongue moved inside her, splitting her open most enthusiastically.

The Major licked her thirstily, fuelled by his commander's strained grunts. Her fingers twisted in his hair, pulling it roughly, making him wild in his conquest. His tongue dived impossibly deep inside her and was soon joined by two fingers stabbing her insides, buried to the knuckles.

"Oh Gods," she growled when her thighs struggled to spread wider and shut closed at the same time, wanting to trap him deeper inside her. Her mind was blissfully blank, desire overcoming any rationality and reigning over her traitorous body that seemed to have developed a life of its own. Incoherent words spilled through her parted lips as that clever mouth over her throbbing slickness licked and prodded in counter-time with the pounding fingers assaulting her quivering hole. The digits went further and further inside her, making her crazed with pleasure when they pressed hard against her walls and twisted inside, resembling hooks snatching the release out from her.

Olivier heard herself scream as her muscles clenched and her spine arched over the mattress, the sound not resembling her. Warm juices invaded his mouth and he lapped at them vigorously, gathering all of her essence like his life depended on it.

The commander panted madly, her chest rising and falling irregularly. She opened her eyes, not realising she had closed them, and watched Miles ascend to her level. He regarded her in awe, something deeper than mere adulation encrypted in the redness of those wonderful doors to his soul. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her breath, but she couldn't, she couldn't because she was being kissed with such abandon she felt herself melt and fall into the abyss. All she saw was mist, her senses heightened yet too inexact, not able to fully grasp the perfection of their embrace.

She pushed him away with a surprisingly steady hand pressed to his dark chest. Miles waited for her patiently, even though his body was screaming for some sort of action. That didn't matter to him, when his beloved looked at him with those sinful eyes of hers, her blonde hair sprawled over the pillows under her head.

They kissed again and his clothed erection poked her hip involuntarily. He backed off a little, but Olivier caught him and pressed a leg between his, empowered by the hardness she sensed there. Her hand wandered south and she caressed him through the thin fabric of his well-worn bottoms, assessing the firm length and evaluating its girth almost clinically.

Her movements made him buckle in her open palm, demanding for more friction. Olivier chuckled darkly and pushed her lover aside on his back, quickly climbing over him, like a panther. He had always called her a mouse, but in times such as this, when the predator in her awakened, she was the tiger that demanded its rightful prey. She pulled his pants down his long legs and watched his cock sprang out, smacking wetly over his lean stomach. Her hand grasped him tightly, awarded by a shocked gasp soon followed by groans.

Olivier grinned as she went down the mattress. Miles watched her nearly startled, his pupils blown wide. "Olive, love, there's no need for that, really," he blurted, suddenly not so confident about what was happening.

She snorted. "Shut up, stupid," she made categorically and took him inside her mouth. His hands shot up in the air indecisively, part of him wanting to cover his mouth and the other wanting to grab her hair. She laughed at him as she bobbed her head up and down his length, engulfing the leaking member within her moist warmth, caressing it with the flat of her tongue. The battle in her lover ended abruptly when her locks were covered by large hands, encouraging her rather frantically, but not unwontedly so. She gave him a dirty look, one that made the man blush madly and the cock in her mouth twitch even worse. She couldn't do anything but mentally pat herself on the back.

Olivier eased him down her throat, enjoying the rippling of her muscles over his girth. She shivered pleasantly and felt her cunt clench, wanting that hardness to take her, to claim her fully. The veins in his cock pulsed angrily as she grazed them, the length jumping excitedly in her hand. Just as she wanted to taste him again, her hair was yanked upwards. "Hey!" she exclaimed, bothered by the sudden interruption.

She glared at him like she has been denied some sort of treat. Miles' cheeks flamed up at her heated frowning and he gulped, feeling a little silly at stopping her when she made such a face. "Um," he stuttered dumbly, all his blood rushing to his cock and not to his brain, rendering him completely useless.

The blonde tapped a finger on his forehead and then started laughing wildly at his awestruck expression. She found herself bended backwards, her bottom hitting the mattress hard. She was pinned down by his weight and her legs were thrown over his shoulders. Before she could realise it, he entered her fully, taking her by surprise. "Woah, that's more like it, soldier!" she blurted, her toes curling at his precise thrusts, unrushed and long. He moved slowly inside her, pushing heavily at the end, burying her deeper into the bed.

"Of- Officer, Olivier, I'm an officer," he commented between grunts, some stray locks of white hair falling over his eyes and jumping on his forehead with each thrust.

"Whatever makes you feel better, Major," she retorted unimpressed, or so she hoped. She was feeling too hot to care how needy she sounded, but she preferred to think of herself being cool even in such situations – even though she was most definitely not. "Just fuck me, would you? Shut up already," she complained and captured his mouth to silence him. When he started talking, there was no end to his discourse. She didn't feel particularly inclined to listen to his endless speeches which usually turned awfully philosophical in the worst moments.

They kissed sloppily as he picked up his pace, pounding inside her almost vengefully, like he wanted to get through her. She screamed inside his mouth and clenched around his cock, her juices making their desperate joining almost frictionless. He butted further into her, nails breaking his skin in ecstasy. He felt wet blood seep from where her hands were wounding him in her dazed pleasure, but he couldn't care less about such trivialities.

Olivier's knees buckled and caught his hips between them, wanting him deeper than physically possible. His heavy balls slapped against her arse and she cursed some more, unable to think clearly in her lust. He shifted them slightly and put more force into his thrusts, reaching spots inside her that quivered when he touched them.

Driven purely by the blinding lust that pooled inside his stomach, Miles lowered a hand to her need and brushed over her clit hesitantly. She moaned, her voice ringing in his ears and her insides pulling him in. He left that part alone and roamed lower, past the place they were connected to where her large buttocks joined together. They trembled with each of his movement and he found himself fascinated, wanting to feel more of that. Unplanned, he found himself pointing a finger against her arse and easing it in, feeling her tense at the intrusion. Whatever still functioned of his mind suddenly panicked and he thought he would get hit, but all he heard were louder cries of passion.

Shrugging internally, he continued thrusting himself inside her cunt and testily playing with her bottom, wondering how long it would take her to push him away when she realised what he was doing to her. Olivier clenched impressively and she suddenly let out a shattering moan, one that sent vibrations to his very core. Her mind emptied as she came again, her pleasure gushing out of her with force. He pulled out despite the pain it caused him, denying himself the much needed release.

She regarded him eerily, uncertainty etched on her face. Shakily, she traced his chest with the tips of her fingers, feeling his heart beat madly. Her face split in a gentle smile, one that infected her eyes with mirth. To him, she looked like a radiating goddess, brilliant in front of him.

Olivier slapped his hip hard and snatched his right arm, unbalancing him for a moment. He caught himself before he landed over her. Her other hand clasped his throbbing length and tightened her grip around the base, basking in his strained wails. "You're a brave one," she mocked him, licking her lips. His mouth felt suddenly dry as she squeezed him tighter.

It all started to hurt, his chest and the muscles in his abdomen. However, he watched her defiantly and the blonde smirked at him, proud to be subjected to such raillery. Her man was no soft idiot. She directed his hand back between her legs, to the ring of muscles at the base of her bottom. A singular eyebrow shot up at her and she nodded, closing her eyes as he pushed a finger inside her arse, feeling her tight and hot. Their lips met with renowned ardour and she pressed down on his hand, smiling at the stimulation.

He added a second finger, aided by the moisture that seeped out from the upper hole, making the foreign friction so much more pleasurable for Olivier. Her tongue invaded his mouth and her heels kicked his back desperately. "Do you like that?" he asked her a little surprised and she nodded frantically as he added a third finger, the resistance more prominent. Her eyes shot closed and she screamed frustrated when he pulled out his hand.

"Get in this instant," Armstrong ordered him, her voice so low he feared she might strangle him if he didn't obey her command. Naturally, he couldn't complain, since he was throbbing in a way that made him cringe when he positioned himself against her tight hole. He slowly encircled the ring with the tip of his cock, liquid smearing over her buttocks most obscenely. She growled and narrowed her eyes into thin, glowing slits. "Whoa, okay," Miles said hastily and entered her once again, that time through the barrier of her arse.

Her eyes budged at the new sensation, burning her from the inside in such an eerie way. Miles thought he would pop a vessel or two if he didn't move, but he gritted his teeth and waited for her to calm down and fully accept the foreign intrusion. "Move, come on," she taunted him shakily, seeing sparkles before her eyes, "or are you suddenly shy?"

"My, aren't you an inspiration to us all," he retorted a little pained when the scorching heat seemed to envelop him to the point of bursting. He retracted, leaving only the tip inside, only to dive back inside harshly, eliciting chains of shouted profanities from her. "Oh my- oh fuck, dammit, ARGH!" she snapped, her mouth wide open as he penetrated her harder, rougher. Her blonde hair entangled as she thrashed on the bed, sweat gliding over her brow. His white hair fell on his face and she desperately pushed it away from his eyes, wanting to look at him while he could barely breathe, not that she was doing any better. It was like nothing she had ever felt, such a force that was pulling and pushing her insides as he pounded into her, absolutely maddening.

Heat twisted inside his belly as he pushed his aching need inside her a few more times. He couldn't hear anything, only a buzz in the back of his head as he suddenly came explosively inside her asshole, his grunt of release cavernous. He blinked rapidly, his vision spotty and a little funny in the aftermath of that nerve wrecking climax.

Olivier giggled, head swimming drunkenly from overstimulation. Her breath whizzed when she talked and her mouth was slack. "My, my, Farid, you've really outdid yourself this time," she praised him, still grinning at his narrowing expression. She pointed with a slightly crooked finger toward their joined lower bodies and started laughing, tightening her body.

Miles inhaled sharply, forcing his lungs to take more air than their capacity, trying to steady himself. She grimaced at the loss of his member inside her when he unsheathed his slowly softening cock, leaving her arse gaping and clenching. Warm cum spilled out as the muscles relaxed and she pressed her legs together, relieving a bit of their sweet embrace. Watching her squirm in the remains of what has transpired, he felt the absolute need to say something to her, even though he didn't trust his voice that much. "What a fine way to use my given name, thank you," he managed to reply, looking at her insulted.

"Ha! You know what, dear?" the blonde bubbled, showing her shark teeth in a devious grin. "Fuck your sacred name, you've just been inside my ass, you can very much shut the fuck up."

He thumped his forehead against her chest, burying his pointed nose between her breasts. His hair was once again smacked over her mouth. "Oh, Ishbala, you're absolutely terrible," he whispered from the warm confines around his cheeks.

"Why, thank you!" she stated proudly and freed what remained of his ponytail. White rivulets spilled over his shoulder and he looked up at her, his red eyes laughing.

"Ever the romantic, Olivier."

"You're enough of a sap for both of us," she made and grabbed his pale locks, so beautifully contrasting against his dark skin. He pressed their lips together, smiling into their kiss. She put a sizeable amount of snowy locks behind his ear and pulled at his sideburns, making him wince.

"What the hell were you doing here, really? Did you just come to smell me and then fuck me?"

"I actually wanted to read, you know," Miles replied cockily and swatted her hand away from his cheeks, from where she was determined to pull the short hairs out, one by one. She bit his hand and returned to plucking his hair to annoy him, just because she could. "Bullshit," she deadpanned.

Olivier must have been one of the most dispassionate persons after a perfectly fine shagging, but he loved her just the same. In times such as these, when she kicked him off of her, rolled him on his back and climbed on his chest, he knew he was blessed. To have such a wonderfully powerful woman as a lover, Ishbala must have smiled upon him truly.

He was soon struck out his reverie with a well-aimed knee in the groin. He sputtered as she hit the sensitive area and returned his attention to her. "I'm listening to you, Olivier, stop kicking and biting and whatever you're doing," he told her as he unstuck her from his chest. She planted her nails in his pectoral, smiling sweetly. "Like hell you've came to read, you've brought a fairy tales volume with you."

"Do you have a problem with my reading choices? Maybe I wanted-" he swiftly opened the book and skimmed over the text, "to read about the princess who kissed the frog and it turned into a prince."

"Seriously," she made incredulously.

"Yes, seriously."

Olivier kissed him squarely and backed off, the corners of her mouth tilted upwards. She looked at his face, searching for something. Her smile fell. "Damn, it's still you."

He snorted and pushed her backwards, feeling himself grow interested in her body again. He nipped at her collar, licking it gently, sending shivers to her spine. "It won't work, my love," he said as his hand started to descend back to her heat.

"Why not?" she asked curiously, looking expectantly at the fingers tapping thoughtfully against her mound.

Miles smirked evilly at her and shook his head, thrusting his fingers back into her aching cunt. "Because, my sweet Olivier, you are not a princess. You are a queen."

XXXXX

The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful slumber and long promenades through the cold North City. It has snowed throughout the night and the two officers found themselves walking through the white powdery layers, bundled in their warm clothes. Miles paced alongside his commander and told her about the exposition he had seen the previous day, when she was moping around in that pub. She listened to him and frequently asked him questions, wanting to hear more of his deep voice.

He continued to talk, exposing everything to the tiniest detail. He watched her small smile as he babbled on and he could feet his heart burst. She abruptly took a turn to a dark alley and grabbed his clothes, pushing him against a wall. She kissed him roughly, twisting her fingers through his fluffy scarf, pulling him closer to her body. He looked down at her through his tinted goggles and smiled.

"I wish we could do this whenever mood struck us, to stop hiding," she said melancholically as she let him go. "Is it so bad to want such a thing? Are we so wrong together, Miles?"

He stroked her rosy cheeks. "I wish that too, my love, but who knows? Maybe there'll be such a time even for us."

She nodded at him and smiled sadly, casting a frugal glance at him before returning to the lit street. "So, what were you saying about that painting you’ve seen?"

Miles shook his head and chuckled at her antiques. He marched to her and resumed his explanations, hopeful that his words would come true one fateful day. Until then, they would take whatever they could grasp and live on like they always have, together, hidden from the watchful eyes.

The time for them would certainly come one day.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that’s that! I hope you’ve enjoyed this story, thank you very much for reading! Please leave me some feedback to let me know what you think!  
> As a side note, if you’ve liked this and would like to see more from me, please check out my profile!  
> Till the next time, ta-ta!


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